


everything he's ever wanted

by impertinency



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Half-Sibling Incest, M/M, Unrequited Love, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-28
Updated: 2013-01-28
Packaged: 2017-11-27 06:34:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/658976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/impertinency/pseuds/impertinency
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are nights where Theon lies awake in his chambers, lazily stroking himself as he imagines that he is the one Robb sneaks off with. That he’s the one to make the future heir of Winterfell moan like a whore. That it’s his name Robb calls out when he comes.</p><p>Because Theon knows he is infinitely more worthy of such an honor than Jon Snow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	everything he's ever wanted

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dalyeau](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dalyeau/gifts).



> Written for the Porn Battle XIV [prompt](http://oxoniensis.livejournal.com/526639.html?thread=32653103#t32653103) Jon/Robb/(Theon), one-sided, voyeurism, jealousy. Also [linked to at my tumblr](http://impertinency.tumblr.com/post/41684480727/he-considers-how-robb-would-react-if-theon-were-to).

Theon wakes to the sound of low whispers and the gentle rustling of bed sheets. The room is dark, the fire nothing more than embers that flicker and fade in the hearth. The nighttime air bites at his skin, makes him frown for a second until he remembers where he is, that the king’s arrival means sharing chambers with Robb and Jon. Theon’s no stranger to sharing a bed. Sometimes it’s the only way to keep warm during particularly cold night. The cold in Winterfell is bitter and biting, far different from the Iron Islands where the cold is borne of rainstorms and the windy seas.

He longs for home sometimes, for the smell of salt water, for the way the air turned hot and muggy before a summer rainstorm. For the chill of the winter seas, the feel of the raindrops on his face. He dreams of being among those who have the blood of the sea in their veins, not the blood of wolves and winter.

And yet here he is, a kraken sharing chambers with two wolves. 

It makes him scowl as he gropes blindly for the sheets that have pooled at the foot of the bed. He knows it’s pointless because Robb always steals half the sheets and furs during the night anyway. Robb often claims the middle – jokes that it’s his right as future heir – but by morning he’s usually on the far side of the bed sprawled half on top of Jon.

Theon knows that if he looks over he’ll find them curled up together, a mess of tangled limbs and sleepy, secretive whispers. It makes him seethe with jealousy, to know that Robb apparently has more regard for a bastard of the North than the future heir of the Iron Islands. To know that Robb will _never_ look at him the way he looks at Jon Snow. 

Theon’s relationship with the Starks is built on respect and civility, and even though he’s closest with Robb, their relationship has yet to transcend that of friendship. He may be a ward of Winterfell, but he is no Stark. And while Robb may consider him a friend or brother, he doesn’t grace Theon with the same soft, fond looks that he gives his siblings. Nor does he interact with Theon the way he does with Jon. 

He’s seen the way they look at each other. The way they grace each other with soft smiles and quick touches, the way Robb seeks out Jon when he’s troubled and the way Jon is less sullen and reserved in Robb’s presence. 

And he knows what they do when they slink off together to the godswood or the armory or some unused part of the castle. They think they’re subtle, but Robb is terrible at concealing his emotions, even more so when they concern Jon.

He’s followed them on a few occasions. 

The first time was purely by accident. He’d been on his way to the armory and had stumbled upon them rutting up against the stone wall like they were possessed.

The second time, he’d followed them into the godswood to find them pressed against the weirwood, Jon’s lips wrapped around Robb’s cock. Theon had intended to make his presence known, to tease Robb and embarrass Jon. But instead he had stayed, his cock heavy in his breeches, as he watched Robb slide his hands in his brother’s curls and thrust into his mouth. And he stayed there after, watching as Robb returned the favor, pressing Jon back against the tree and sucking a bruise into the skin on his jaw as he fumbled with the ties on Jon’s breeches. Theon hadn’t been able to look away, had been entranced by Robb’s red, swollen mouth, his mussed hair, his sweat-slicked skin.

He’d visited Ros that night, had taken her from behind so he could only see the pale white of her skin and her long auburn curls. 

He considers how Robb would react if Theon were to scrape his nails across the broad planes of Robb’s back, to tug at his auburn curls, to bite down on the pale skin of his neck. He wants to know if he would be enough for Robb or if Robb would still think of Jon while he fucks him. What would it take, Theon wonders, for Robb to look at him the way he looks at Jon. To gaze at him with unrepentant lust and desire.

There are nights where Theon lies awake in his chambers and curls a hand around his cock, lazily stroking himself as he imagines that _he_ is the one Robb sneaks off with. That he’s the one to make the future heir of Winterfell moan like a whore. That it’s his name Robb calls out when he comes.

Because Theon knows he is infinitely more worthy of such an honor than Jon Snow. 

Robb has a fascination with Jon that Theon doesn’t understand. He has never liked Jon, has never made an attempt to win his friendship once he realized that Jon was his competition for Robb’s attention. There is no love lost between them and they’re only civil to each other for Robb’s sake. Even so, Theon feels like he’s the one who has somehow been cheated when Jon is the one Robb reaches for each night.

Which is why he feels no shame for spying on them. There’s been many a night where’s woken to the sound of their whispers, has listened to them discuss things they would never broach if they knew someone was listening. 

Like most nights, Theon doesn’t alert them to his presence. Instead, he turns his head slightly to the right, careful not to call attention to himself. 

The moon is bright tonight and the stray glimmer of moonlight that shines through the open window is enough for him to make out the outline of their bodies and the expressions on their faces. Neither of them notice he’s awake, too caught up in each other to pay the rest of the world any mind. Robb is leaning over Jon, one hand buried in Jon’s hair as he nips at his already kiss-swollen lips. 

“I don’t want you to leave,” Robb whispers. He drags a hand through Jon’s hair, twists his fingers in the curls and tugs at them gently.

“I have to,” Jon replies. “You don’t need me here.”

Theon’s close enough that he doesn’t have to strain to hear their words. He knows Jon has decided to go to the Wall, to seek out glory and honor and whatever other rubbish he believes he needs to achieve. Theon can’t imagine why anyone would willingly spend their life in a frozen wasteland confined to nothing but ice and black cloaks and celibacy. 

But that’s not his problem. He was indifferent when he learned of Jon’s plans and none of his feelings on the matter have changed. 

Robb, however, looks as if his world is ending. He leans his forehead against Jon’s and his voice is low and pleading as he murmurs, “I need you more than anyone.”

And oh, how that stings. That sliver of envy that has always been present grows at Robb’s words.

“I’ll visit,” Jon says. “When you’re named Lord of Winterfell, I’ll come back to pay my respects.”

“Not good enough.” 

Their words cease soon after, replaced with breathless kisses and desperate, wandering hands. Theon lets his eyes slide over Robb’s body, drinks in the way the muscles in his back contract as he presses Jon down against the bed, the way his fingers tighten on Jon’s arms as he ruts against him. Jon slides his fingers across Robb’s back, nails no doubt biting into Robb’s skin to leave marks that he’ll have for days afterward. 

Theon has seen the marks they leave on each other. A bruise on Jon’s hip, a mark on Robb’s jaw. He’s seen them during the hot summer days when they all took refuge in the godswoods’ pools. He’s heard Robb wave them off as bruises earned in the training yard after practicing swords.

But Theon knows the shape of bruises left by a strong grip or the size and color of a mark sucked into someone’s skin. He understands sex, has made enough whores moan with pleasure, has experienced the thrill of having another man’s mouth around his cock. He relishes the feel of another body beneath him, the sound of heavy breathing and delighted moans.

As if on cue, Robb lets out a guttural moan. Theon’s cock twitches, the first stirrings of arousal heavy in his gut.

“Quiet,” Jon says, torn between amusement and worry. “You’ll wake Greyjoy.”

“I don’t care,” Robb says. He bites down on Jon’s neck and grins when Jon groans. “This is the last time I can have you. The whole castle can watch for all I care.”

Jon’s huff of laughter trails off into a surprised gasp when Robb grinds down against him. Robb ruts against Jon with a frenzied intensity, releasing short, low groans each time Jon moves his hips to match Robb’s pace. Their heavy breathing echoes throughout the room, and Theon can feel the warmth radiating from their bodies.

It makes his cock strain against his breeches and he pushes away the faint trickle of shame as he slips his hand underneath the sheets, anxious for relief. He lets out a shuddering sigh of relief as he wraps a hand around himself, stroking himself as he stares at Robb.

Robb’s expression is a mixture of desire and pleasure, and Theon has to hold back a moan as he imagines that look directed at him. He increases the speed of his strokes and it takes an embarrassingly short time before he spills into his hand. He’s careful not to make any noise, biting down on his lower lip hard enough to draw blood. He’s wet and messy, and he half-heartedly wipes his hand on the bed sheets with a sneer of disgust. It’s just one more stain the servants will have to clean from the furs tomorrow morning.

He flicks his gaze back to Robb and Jon, watches them with half-lidded eyes as Robb buries his face in Jon’s neck, mouthing at the skin there as he whispers, “Jon. Stay. Please.”

Theon can’t contain the tendril of jealousy that sweeps through him at the affection in Robb’s voice. At the way Robb all but sobs Jon’s name when he comes, releasing a wordless cry as he slumps against him. Jon comes a moment later, a satisfied smile flitting across his face when Robb curls into him, draping an arm across his chest. Theon hates them for their easy intimacy, for the way Jon rests his head on top of Robb’s, the way Robb seems completely at ease curled around Jon. 

“You won’t have this at the Wall,” Robb says. He yawns, shifting to throw a leg over Jon so that he’s practically on top of him. It’s a gesture that speaks of routine and familiarity.

“I’m still going, Robb,” Jon says.

Robb sighs, and when he speaks there’s a warring weariness and longing in his voice. “I know.”

There’s so much emotion behind those two words, and Theon wonders what is it about Jon that makes Robb sounds so utterly wrecked at the prospect of being parted from him. It makes Theon question whether anyone will ever care for him even half as much, if Robb would mourn him if he were to return to Pyke. 

 

Months later, he has his answer. He rides to war with Robb, fights by his side and protects him from harm. He listens to his worries about leading an army and gives him counsel when asked. Plays the role of dutiful friend when Robb admits that he misses his sisters and brothers, that he misses Jon most of all.

But when Robb hands him a letter and bids him to act as envoy to Pyke, he receives no grand or heartfelt farewell. Robb just claps him on the shoulder and wishes him a safe journey.


End file.
